Differing Views
by mystiri1
Summary: "I think this is a fools errand, sir."  "Perhaps," Rufus acknowledged.


The new Seventh Heaven was probably a lot more impressive than the old one, Rufus thought, staring at the building from outside. He'd never seen the old one, of course; although he'd done his fair share of slumming as a teenager, it hadn't included Midgar's Sector Seven, and most of his meetings with AVALANCHE had been kept to neutral ground when he was funding them. Just because he had provided the eco-terrorists with money to attack his father's company didn't mean they had trusted him.

"You can wait out here with the car," Rufus said, and was not really surprised when Tseng ignored him.

It was mid-morning, so the bar was empty of customers. Tifa stood behind the bar, cleaning glasses and stacking them under the counter. She looked up at their entry, and promptly scowled.

"What do you want?" The tone was one of annoyance and dislike. Rufus bit back a smile. The lack of respect should have annoyed him, but then, he hadn't come here expecting a warm welcome, or even a positive answer.

Although most of the world would freely admit to hating ShinRa, and therefore Rufus, few people would ever have the courage to be openly antagonistic towards him. "I'm here to see Cloud," he said, and then, before she could fob him off with some excuse, "I understand he's in town at the moment."

"He wants nothing to do with you, ShinRa."

Rufus was aware of that. "Nevertheless, I wish to talk to him." He looked around, picked a table and sat down, making a show of checking to see how clean it was before resting a white-clad elbow on its surface. Tifa's jaw clenched. "I'll wait."

The brunette fighter tossed the towel she was using to the bar's surface, and stalked out. He heard the rapid tattoo of her feet upon the stairs, and smiled. "Such charming hospitality. Wouldn't you agree, Tseng?"

"I think this is a fool's errand, sir."

"Perhaps," Rufus acknowledged, "but that depends on what the purpose of my visit really is."

A boy was peering around the door of the back room, staring at him.

Rufus stared back.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" he finally asked.

"Are you really Rufus ShinRa?"

"Yes, I am." Rufus doubted there was anyone who'd have the balls to impersonate him, anyway.

"Huh." The boy stopped peering around the doorway, and took a few steps into the bar.

He must be one of the kids who lived here, Rufus thought. He considered the information that the Turks had compiled on Strife and Lockhart's current living situation. He'd not paid too much attention to the children, because he'd decided using them as leverage would do more harm than good. Barret Wallace's daughter, Marlene, lived here a good deal of the time, along with an orphan they'd taken in, a boy named... Denzel. That was it.

"You don't look that scary," Denzel informed him.

Rufus' eyebrows shot up. Behind him, Tseng cleared his throat in a manner that Rufus knew indicated amusement.

"Am I supposed to look scary?" Rufus didn't have much experience with children. He wondered if they were all this blunt, or only those who'd been raised by former anti-ShinRa terrorists.

"Well, yeah. You're a ShinRa."

This was valid reason for most people to fear him, Rufus acknowledged.

Denzel's nose wrinkled. "But you're wearing a suit."

"Men in suits aren't scary?" This was in diametric opposition to Rufus' view of the world as a child, and he was intrigued.

"No."

"Turks wear suits."

"They're _Turks_," Denzel said, as if this completely overrode their unfortunate choices in clothing. "And besides, yours is _white_."

"Would it help if I told you I had a gun?"

"What kind of gun?" Denzel moved closer.

Rufus withdrew the sleek pistol he was currently wearing in a shoulder holster. He popped the clip out, and checked the chamber before holding it out. Denzel took it carefully, looking a little surprised at the weight of it.

"I have a shotgun as well, but I didn't bring it with me." It was in the limo outside. And there was a second gun strapped to his ankle, but he wasn't completely disarming himself for the sake of one child's curiosity.

As Rufus watched the boy examine the gun, he wondered what it was like to think that the only dangerous people must look that way. What Denzel would say if Rufus told him the most dangerous people of all wore suits and sat in air-conditioned board rooms, destroying people's lives while drinking imported coffees and making plans to attend the theatre?

Rufus could remember his own childhood with excruciating detail, the weekly 'meetings' with his father to discuss his educational progress - or lack of, as his father often viewed it. Adolphus ShinRa held all the power and authority of a god over a young Rufus' life, and he was not a benevolent one.

When he was older, there were the board meetings, where he sat and listened and sometimes contributed as a bunch of overweight, out-of-touch men in ill-fitting suits (and one woman in a red dress) made momentous decisions affecting millions of people with the same casual attitudes with which they ordered lunch.

Men in suits had ordered the construction of Midgar, and the dropping of the Plate on Sector Seven. Men in suits had ordered the closure of the Corel mines, and the building of the new Junon harbour on top of the old one. Men in suits had ordered the Wutai War, and as far as Rufus could tell, none of them had ever had a moment's doubt or concern over any of their decisions.

Men in suits had made him what he was, and Rufus was well aware that Denzel's view of him was not one shared by many.

Still, perhaps it was because of who Denzel knew that he saw things that way. The former members of AVALANCHE were some of the most dangerous fighters on the Planet, and Rufus was quite sure he'd never see any of them wearing a suit. And the boy was one of those that had been abducted by the Remnants in their most recent crisis, but as 'pretty' as the clones were, they still wore black leather and rode motorcycles.

It seemed... simplistic. A little naïve. For a child that had lived on the streets, Denzel was still surprisingly innocent. In his world, it was obvious who were the good guys and who were the bad guys, and the good guys always won.

Rufus knew better, but it wasn't his place to tell.

The sound of a heavy tread coming down the stairs made Denzel's head pop up, eyes widening as if he'd just realised he might be in trouble. Tifa appeared first, followed by a scowling Cloud.

"Denzel, you know you're not supposed to be in the bar during – what do you have there!" Tifa exclaimed.

Cloud's eyes landed on Rufus and narrowed.

"It's Mr ShinRa's gun," Denzel said in an almost mumble. "I was just looking at it." He held it out to Rufus, but the man wasn't paying attention. Instead, he met Cloud's glare with an unconcerned gaze.

"Hello, Strife."

Cloud said nothing.

"What are you thinking?" Tifa demanded. "You don't give guns to children Denzel's age!"

"Really?" Rufus turned to look at Tseng. He'd been about Denzel's age, perhaps even a few months younger, when the Turk gave him his first gun.

Tseng shrugged.

"Ah." Rufus reached out, took the gun, and snapped the magazine back into place with a decisive clip, before sliding it back into its holster.

"What do you want?"

"I want to ask you to come work for me."

He watched Cloud's expression change – annoyance, frustration, confusion. It was odd that some people thought the former mercenary uncommunicative. Rufus found him delightfully easy to read, if somewhat limited in his emotional range. "I've already said no. Several times."

"Hmm, in that case, I have a delivery for you to make. To Mideel. I'll have my assistant call you with the details." Rufus stood, and headed for the door.

He paused a moment when he reached it, and glanced back. There was Cloud, with a puzzled scowl; Tifa, fierce and protective; and Denzel, who still looked worried about the trouble he might now be in, but not scared.

The former president of ShinRa Electric Power Company, and current president of Neo-ShinRa Incorporated, smiled.

"So did you achieve what you wanted, sir?" Tseng asked once they were outside.

Rufus hummed thoughtfully. "I think I'll wait a month or two before I ask again."

Tseng sighed, and spoke bluntly. "You know he's not going to change his mind, Rufus."

"Of course." But that wasn't why he'd come, Rufus knew. He climbed into the limo, with its pristine, air-conditioned interior and fully-stocked mini bar. A briefcase sat on one seat, papers that he needed to go through and sign off on by the end of the day. Decisions that he needed to make.

As he pulled out the first of them and began to read, he thought of Denzel, who didn't think men in suits were dangerous.

Sometimes, he needed to remind himself that not everybody saw things the same way.


End file.
